


Unexpected

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-23
Updated: 2004-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A solitary deity finds a companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Written for oddcellist

 

 

Unexpected

Hephaestus wiped his brow and sighed with contentment, and truthfully, more than a little pride. His newest creation would please Zeus. He motioned to his automatons and they carried the golden table away. He was turning towards his workbench andsomething brightly coloured showed out of the gloom and caught the corner of his eye. He stopped and looked to the low couch under the window on the west wall. On the kline was Dionysus in his purple cloak, who regarded him with a small smile.

Hephaestus did not recall the younger god having visited the forge before. Remembering the long ago incident with the donkey, he was suspicious as to the cause of the visit.

"Dionysus, to what do I owe the pleasure?" his voice left no doubt of his true feelings.

The other simply tilted his head to the side, and continued smiling, oblivious or intentionally ignoring his sneer. "I like it here; it's quite peaceful."

Hephaestus gestured at the surrounding room, where his assistants worked away, hammering with loud clangs. "You find this calming? No-one else can abide the noise."

"Do you keep it thus so the others will stay away?" Dionysus responded.

"You haven't answered my question." Hephaestus was puzzled and frustrated. What purpose did Dionysus have in being here?

Dionysus wrinkled his brow briefly in thought. "What question -oh, about it being calming here. Compared to the shouts of my devotees," Dionysus smiled wryly,"It's noisy but impersonal."

Hephaestus crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Dionysus in disbelief. "I find it difficult to believe that you, of all of us, would take comfort in the impersonal."

Dionysus shrugged. "I find your work fascinating as it is so different from my own. You helpers are silent and loyal; you have no one to please but yourself. It is more than a little enviable."

Hephaestus did not know what to make of the other's candour. "You may stay then, and are welcome to what you peace you can find here," he said.

Dionysus smiled in response and lay back on the kline. Appropriately enough, he looked like an invitation to debauchery. Dark golden blond curls fell onto his forehead and long, slimly muscled legs stretched out on the couch. He watched Hephaestus with a look that seemed half interested and half flirtatious. Hephaestus was unsure how much of his demeanour was artifice and how much was the way Dionysus simply was.

He managed to tear his gaze from the beguiling youth and turned back to his work. Hephaestus himself had often found solace here, but it was a solace based on necessity. He alone among the Olympians did not appear handsome or move with grace. Instead of enduring their pitying smiles he had created for himself this forge, his artificial assistants, his work. That anyone else, least of all the patron of wine and theatre could find repose here was a mystery to him. He suspected that Dionysus was up to something, but was not able to determine what.

Hours later, he turned to show Dionysus the completed helmet he had crafted but the young god was gone.

He felt strangely bereft.

That day began a pattern of visits from the young deity. Dionysus would slip unobtrusively into the workshop so that Hephaestus would turn around and he would simply be there, stretched out on the low couch and watching the goings on with casual interest. Occasionally he would ask a question about what Hephaestus was making and when Hephaestus would tell him, Dionysus would often make a witty comment about the recipient. His comments were barbed but never cruel and Hephaestus began to laugh with him. Dionysus seemed pleased that Hephaestus shared his humour but gave no further indication of why he was there. He was beginning to think that Dionysus was planning an elaborate prank but whether he or another was the victim, he still had no idea.

One morning he caught himself looking more forward to Dionysus' company than to his work. He wondered whether the younger god felt the same. It seemed that he enjoyed his visits, but Hephaestus remained cynical. Hephaestus dined that evening with the others at Zeus' table in hopes of insight. Perhaps Dionysus' behaviour would yield a clue. But the meal passed with no sign of Dionysus. Hephaestus was bored, frustrated, drank too much wine, and retired early.

The next morning he awoke late and with a pounding headache. He forced himself to his work and entered the forge shouting at his automatons. They responded swiftly and silent, perfect workers just as he had created them.

"It seems as if someone didn't sleep well." The voice, unexpected amongst the mechanical sounds of the forge, made him stop in surprise. He turned and saw Dionysus, draped over the couch, looking smug and dangling a bunch of grapes from one hand.

"Grape?" he asked, proffering them.

"No thank you. I am not fee- I do not need a morning meal," Hephaestus grumbled.

Dionysus flashed him a smile. "Grapes aren't a meal, they're merely something to enjoy." He rolled a grape between his thumb and forefinger and looked as if he was going to pop it into his mouth. He stopped though, and raised himself up gracefully to stand before Hephaestus.

"They're an amusement for the tongue," he continued, "And very good grapes. I should know."  
Dionysus held the fruit to Hephaestus' lips.

"I'm sure you'll find none better." Dionysus said the last with such lascivious invitation that Hepheastus' lips opened of their own accord, accepting the offer.

As he bit down, the sweet, tart juice sprang onto his tongue. He wondered what his expression must have looked like because the youth regarded him with a superior smile.

"It's delicious," he said, hoping Dionysus would not notice the flush that crept beneath his beard.

Dionysus, to his surprise, did not mock him but only said, "I knew you'd find it so, once you tried it."

Then with the air of someone who has delivered the last clever word in a debate, he departed, leaving Hephaestus alone, the musky taste of fruit dissolving on his tongue.

The rest of the day Hephaestus could not seem to concentrate on his work. He worked and barked orders at his assistants, but felt none of his usual satisfaction. He was frustrated at himself for allowing himself to be affected in this way. It had almost seemed as if Dionysus had been offering something more than a grape. Impossible. He alone on Olympus was not beautiful and Dionysus was youthful and strong, and his adherents worked themselves into a frenzy over him and his gift.

Hephaestus retired to his chambers that night, baffled and angry. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Unbidden thoughts of dark blond curls and laughing grey eyes haunted him, as did echoes of the intoxicating voice, bot innocent and seductive. He imagined how Dionysus' skin would be warm beneath his fingers and how he would taste like grapes, sweet and pungent. Hephaestus flushed with excitement and shame as he lay against too warm bedclothes fisting his erection. He did not need to slake his desire by engaging in unrequited fantasies. He need only beckon and someone would come to him - a dewy-eyed maiden or a willowy youth, adherents from his temple. But neither would be the company he craved so he did not call out, merely sighed a name as he trembled and spilled over his hand.

He awoke at dawn, satisfied from a deep sleep and pleasant dreams of young, strong limbs tangling with his own. It would be easy, he thought, to find a lover from amongst the Athenian youths who worshipped the patron of metal smiths. Beautiful boys, strong of leg and back, with golden curls and deep eyes, and if they lacked keen wit and sharp observation, what would it matter?

He had made the decision. He would visit Athens and honour some youth with his favour.  
He banished Dionysus from his thoughts just as Dionysus had vanished from his forge.  
Hephaestus thought himself firm in his resolve.

When he arrived at his workshop, he realised that he had fooled himself.  
Despite the early hour, Dionysus was waiting for him. At the sight of him, Hephaestus' will dissolved.

"Pleasant dreams?" Dionysus asked.

Somehow, Hephaestus felt he knew the answer. Anger began to boil up within him. Was this what the young god had been playing at? To fill him with desire and show him a fool?

"Did you not send them to me?" Hephaestus growled in response.

"I would hope so," was the reply. Dionysus looked at him without guile. He approached Hephaestus slowly as if afraid of startling him.

"And why would you hope such things? A prank? A wager, perhaps with Hermes on how you could affect the old, lame Hephaestus whom all Olympians mock?" He hated the self-pity in his voice but hoped it cut the other as well.

"Is that what you think of me? Have I not sat and watched you work, laughed with you, and craved your company?" His voice was soothing and he stepped closer and raised a fine boned hand to Hephaestus' bearded cheek. "Did you never stop to think my motives were somewhat more simple?" His breath was warm against Hephaestus' chest.

Hephaestus looked down at Dionysus and without pausing to think, leaned down to kiss him.

It was unexpected, this thing between them, but it was welcome.

The god of wine did not taste of grapes, but of warmth and affection and Hephaestus was content.

 


End file.
